THE SEVEN CHAIRS
by teho
Summary: This is a story I wrote in yr 11 English. The task was to write a short story based on a provided title, opening sentence and picture. The pic was of a nun suspended above a chapel floor, in a chair, where two men in gowns stood.


THE SEVEN CHAIRS  
  
The Fifth ended up in France. Only the one chair reached its intended destination. Sitting onboard shaken but not stirred was Sister Wendy, Britain's only hope of victory. 'Only one?' muttered Father Cohen to his disciple. 'That's right only the one' interrupted Sister Wendy, before spitting a large wad of tobacco to the cold marble floor of the cathedral. 'Ah um yes I was just saying how we had expected more help but.' 'But, we wont need more help' added Sister Wendy, after dismounting from her chair suspended in the stale air well above their heads. Sister Wendy slapped her two companions on the back as they disappeared into the secretive backrooms of the cathedral.  
  
For five years Britain's highest regarded scientists had worked at breaking one of the greatest un-answered questions from history. What is amber- fusion? Finally to the amazement of the academic establishment a team of forty men working around the clock had discovered the answer and developed seven working prototypes. The Royal Air Force was pleased that their costly investment had paid off and looked forward to seeing amber-fusion chairs in action over the British Channel, fighting off the mighty German Luftwaffe. But first the seven prototypes would be used to insert seven highly trained MI5 agents into the ranks of the Third Reich  
  
'This really is quite nice' said the figure at the end of the table as he rested his cup of tea on its saucer. 'Ya heer Fuhrer. It is a special blend of mine' boasted an officer wearing an apron and carrying a silver tray. Hitler's Annual Tea Party was in full swing. Those in attendance included most of the highest ranked members of the Third Reich. Although a celebration the gathering still had official business to attend to. The clinking of a champagne glass brought the room to an eerie quiet. General Speer came to attention and announced, 'We must decide where to focus this months production spending. Is it to be for the Luftwaffe to take the war to the British homeland or for building new tank divisions to sweep into the Soviet Union? Speer looked to the Fuhrer.  
  
'We shall decide this matter traditionally' announced the Fuhrer. The congregation moved to an adjacent room carrying their cups of tea and pastries. The group formed a circle and Field Marshall Goering from the Luftwaffe and SS-Sturmbannführer Krag from the Panzer Corps stepped into the middle. Speer produced two pillows, handing one to each of the men. He reminded the pair, 'First to call mercy or to leave the arena loses. Begin!' The pair started circling the middle of the arena with their pillows at the ready. The eager crowd had already started to take bets. Goering struck first, beating Krag around the head. 'Ah you wimp!' yelled Goering and proceeded to beat him to the ground. 'Make him stop, make his stop!' yelped Krag. Everyone started laughing. 'So it is decided. The Luftwa.' Speer was interrupted by a banging noise at the door. The room fell silent. 'Who could it be?', 'We are meant to be the only ones here' questioned faceless members of the group. The question was answered for them. The door flew forward breaking at the hinges. As the door smashed to the floor and the dust settled the dominant figure of Sister Wendy entered the doorway. 'The party's over' announced Sister Wendy as she produced her tommy gun. Men ran for the exits in a flurry of confusion. Sister Wendy fired bursts from her gun illuminating the dark room. The shots had landed at their feet, stopping their escape. A group had formed around the Fuhrer in an attempt to protect him. 'Step away', ordered Sister Wendy. When the group did not move she fired again. This time a high pitch scream was heard from the group and they quickly dispersed leaving the Fuhrer alone and exposed. 'Looks as if the game is up heer Fuhrer.' 'I think not.' Sister Wendy paused as she heard the unmistakable click of a firearm being cocked behind her head. Sister Wendy slowly turned her head around to see six German officers with guns raised, enter through the door she had broken in. The Fuhrer started to laugh. 'You have lost. Now lower your weapon.'  
  
  
  
  
  
The Fuhrer's laughter stopped and his rosy cheeks turned to a ghostly white. In turn each German officer had reached for his chin and pulled upwards, removing their mask and producing their true identity. The other six chairs had made it. 'You took your time', grunted Sister Wendy. 'Well we crashed landed into a winery' replied one of the six. 'It took days to get out. Several days in fact' added another. Their attention turned to the Fuhrer who was squirming in his seat. 'What do you think heer Fuhrer?' asked Sister Wendy. 'Let me go!' he screamed. The group laughed. 'Now, now ladies let's be fair' announced Sister Wendy. The Fuhrer's scream became so high pitch it was inaudible as the seven raised their pillows. 


End file.
